The Education of Sebastian (12 page)

His pettiness filled me with sudden fury. I supposed his childish behavior was punishment for not fully attending to his
needs
last night. Whatever the reason, I felt a small kernel of real dislike hardening in the pit of my stomach.

I showered quickly, running through all the angry words I wanted to spit in his face; words that were getting harder to bite back.

Once I’d dried my hair, I swept it up into a simple chignon – one of the few arts of graceful dressing that I learned from my mom – then slipped on my favorite, if slightly wrinkled, terracotta cocktail dress, and cream pumps.

I was applying some gloss lipstick when I heard the first car pull up outside, followed by David’s hysterical yell for me to be front and centre in the living room.

Tempted as I was to keep him waiting, it just wasn’t worth his prima donna overreaction later. He always found a way to exorcise his pique. It occurred to me that over the next few months it would behove me to be a model wife: it would certainly make life easier, but I severely doubted I was up to the challenge. Not when I felt like stabbing him with a pastry fork.

The early arrivals were a Commander Dawson and his wife Bette, a well-dressed couple in their mid-thirties who radiated curiosity, looking at me, the food, the house, our fixtures and fittings with such avid eyes, I wondered if they’d try to sell it on the home-shopping channel.

Then four people arrived together: two single officers and a couple called the Bennetts who were friendly and easy-going, greeting me kindly and ooh-ing and ah-ing over the food.

By the time Donna and Johan arrived, the house was filling up and people spilled out into the yard, the pleasant hum of chat drifting on the summer air.

“Darling Caroline. You look beautiful, as always,” said Donna, kissing me on the cheek and holding my hands. “It’s so good of you to have everyone over so soon after moving in.”

I felt she was trying to convey some sort of message with her words, but I just smiled and nodded, and accepted a quick peck from Johan, whose eyes were fixed expectantly on the buffet.

Donna hooked her arm through mine and asked how I was settling back into the old neighborhood.

“I hear you’re taking up your journalism again,” she said.

“Oh?” I was surprised. I hadn’t broadcast the fact and I doubted David would have mentioned it to anyone.

She winked at me. “No secrets on the Base; you should know that, Caroline. I just happened to run into Shirley Peters and she told me you’d been out with Mitch and the boys.”

“Oh, I see.”

Donna didn’t mind mixing with the wives of enlisted men. Good.

The doorbell rang again and I was saved from having to move the subject away from Mitch and surfing.

“Duty calls,” I said, rather too glumly.

Donna flashed a warm smile and released my arm, promising that we’d ‘catch up’ later. I was sorry that I’d have to avoid her instead: I liked Donna, but I couldn’t afford to be friends with her. Not now.

Sebastian’s parents were standing at the door when I opened it, Estelle’s face set in the rictus smile she reserved for social occasions; Donald muttered some platitude and pushed his way inside.

Over Estelle’s shoulder, I saw Sebastian sitting behind the wheel of the Hunters’ car. I was caught off-guard and something about my expression caused Estelle to turn to see what I was looking at. She smirked.

“It seems that having a child can be useful after all,” she said. “Who knew? Anyway, it saved us a fight over who got to drink tonight.”

“Is he going to wait outside all evening?” I asked, the concern a little too evident in my voice.

“Oh no,” she said, off-handedly. “He’ll come when we call him.”

He’s not a pet dog!

She turned away and walked into the house; Sebastian and I were left to stare at each other across the expanse of driveway.

He gave me the briefest of smiles then reluctantly pulled his eyes away from mine. I watched until the car had disappeared from sight. My heart was racing and I felt dizzy. I took a deep breath to steady myself, and walked back inside.

I spent the rest of the evening being polite and a good hostess, but anxiety strained my nerves to the point where I felt I’d scream.

“Are you alright, Caroline?” said Donna sympathetically. “You seem a little out-of-sorts.”

I laughed, trying to control the quaver in my voice. “It’s just been a long day. I feel like I’ve been cooking forever.”

It was a lame excuse and I didn’t think she’d fallen for it. But, thoughtful as ever, she accepted my words at face value.

“Well, I’m afraid you’ve set the standard now. It’s all absolutely delicious. I don’t know how you do it: cook, write, and look after David.”

She glanced over to where he was holding court, extolling the virtues of white Port over other fortified wines. I knew for a fact he’d looked up the salient points earlier that day on the internet… in between playing cards. David knew nothing about wine. He hated the fact that I did. Was there anything he liked about me? Oh yes, my cooking.

I heard a loud crash and turned in time to see the remains of the food I’d so carefully prepared cascade to the floor in a shower of crumbs and broken pastry.

The worse for wear, Donald Hunter had blundered into the buffet table and was being supported by Commander Bennett and one of the officers whose name I couldn’t remember.

The room was equally divided between those who stared at Donald and those who stared at me to measure my reaction.

“I guess that’s what you call laying on the buffet,” I said, with a resigned shrug.

A ripple of laughter eased the sudden tension in the room and Donald was escorted into the yard, presumably to sober up.

Donna squeezed my arm. “I didn’t know you were mistress of the one-liner, Caroline.”

Mistress? If only you knew.

“Let me help you clear that mess,” she continued.

Several others of the women and a few of the men volunteered to help shovel up the ruined food. Not David, of course. Nor Estelle, who stood with her back to the scene her husband had caused.

“What a waste,” said Donna, sighing. “I admit I had my eyes on a box of take-out.”

I smiled ruefully and was about to reply when we heard raised voices out in the yard. Donna’s eyes hardened and she shook her head with annoyance. I saw her exchange a look with her husband, who nodded slightly and headed outside.

“The Hunters,” she said, confirming my suspicions. “Donald never could hold his liquor. I wonder how they’re getting home.”

“Estelle said that Sebastian was driving them.” I answered a fraction too quickly and Donna threw me a quizzical look.

“Hmm. I’d better give him a call,” she said, pulling a cell phone from her purse and scrolling through the numbers.

I couldn’t control the riot of emotions that flooded through me:
I would
see him. Soon.

The argument outside ended abruptly. I suspected Johan had managed somehow to calm the situation; I knew it wouldn’t have been David. He was far too cowardly to go up against a man like Donald Hunter.

During a tense few minutes while the Hunters snarled at each other across the barbeque pit, I chewed anxiously on my lip. I wasn’t the only one: several guests looked dubious, as if the latent violence, so evident in the couple’s venomous scowls, would erupt at any moment.

For different reasons, we were all relieved when the Hunters’ car drew up and Sebastian climbed out.

Seeing his beautiful face, drawn for now with a serious expression, some of the tension left me. Just having him so close, albeit untouchable, made me feel safe.

“Well, if it isn’t my son and heir,” sneered Donald. “Although it’s not son and hair anymore, is it, son?”

Donna snorted with disgust and my hands clenched involuntarily; I wanted to rip Donald’s vile tongue from his head.

“Just get in the car, dad,” said Sebastian quietly.

I was probably the only one there who could hear the tone of suppressed rage.

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do!” snarled Donald, lurching towards his son, his fist raised.

Johan grabbed his arm but Sebastian didn’t move an inch: he just continued to look at his father impassively.

“Take it easy, Don,” said Johan. The note of authority in his voice might have had some effect on someone who’d drunk less.

Donald just laughed mirthlessly.

“You’re lucky you haven’t got a fucking useless waster for a son, Johan,” he spat.

“Maybe that’s because he takes after his father,” slurred Estelle spitefully.

“It’s all your fault!” shouted Donald. “You’re too fucking soft on him! You’ve turned him into a fucking faggot! English Lit and Italian: that’s what he wants to study at college, for fuck’s sake!”

Johan gripped Donald’s arm and, with the help of another guest whose name I couldn’t remember, steered him towards the car. Estelle wobbled after him, still throwing barbed comments.

Sebastian’s expression hadn’t changed, but his cheeks burned with a tell-tale flush of anger.

“Show’s over,” said Donna. “We’ll let these folks go take a nap.”

But the ill-tempered display had cooled the party mood and the other guests started to make their apologies and leave. I wasn’t sorry to see them leave.

I stared at Sebastian, desperate to go to him, but unable to move. I simply hoped he knew how much I wanted to.

The ghost of a smile touched his beautiful mouth and then he turned to help load his inebriated parents into the family car.

Donna joined me, watching the unpleasant display as the senior Hunters continued to snipe and bicker.

“Gee, I’m sorry about your party, Caroline.”

“At least no one will forget it,” I sighed, shrugging my shoulders.

She smiled. “No, I guess not. You okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Really,” I added, seeing the skeptical look on her face. “Please thank Johan for… well… everything. You, too.”

She squeezed my arm. “Our pleasure, Caroline. You be well now.”

It was only when the final guest had left, and I’d cleared the last of the debris from the kitchen, that I realized how drunk David was.

“What a fucking disaster, Car’line,” he said, leaning against the door frame, watching me.

“It was fine except for the Hunters’ little scene,” I said reassuringly. “And no one will worry about that.”

“You really are stupid, aren’t you, Car’line? I’ll be a fucking laughing stock. At least you’re good for one thing.”

He tried to grab me but I dodged out of his reach.

He frowned, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

“Come here,” he ordered.

“I think you need to sleep now, David,” I said, my heart beginning to sprint as adrenaline flooded through me.

“What I need, Car’line, is a fuck. And you’re my wife.”

I tried to swallow but my mouth was suddenly dry.

He took another step towards me. I turned and ran into the darkened yard, listening to his curses, a loud crash, and then sudden silence.

Cautiously, I peered into the pool of light spilling out from the kitchen. David was sprawled on the floor and across the doorway: out cold. I breathed a sigh of relief.

I tugged at his arm, trying to pull him across the threshold so I could close the door to the yard. He grunted, but his dead weight was too much for me. I stared down at him, wondering how the hell I’d move him.

Nervously, I stepped over his prone body then ran into the bedroom to get my cell. I hesitated briefly before pressing ‘call’.

He answered instantly.

“Caro! Are you okay?”

My answer was a slightly hysterical laugh.

“Yes, I’m fine, but David is out cold and I can’t move him. Will you come? Can you get away? Are Donald and Estelle…?”

“Sleeping it off,” he said with disgust. “I’ll be there in five minutes.” He paused. “I’m so glad you called me, Caro.”

He hung up before I could reply.

With my adrenaline rush over, my knees gave way and I sagged to the floor and sat staring warily at David.

When I heard a car outside, I pushed myself up and staggered to the door.

I opened it and without speaking Sebastian gathered me into his arms. I leaned weakly against his chest as he stroked my hair. I felt both calmed and reassured.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he said, his voice a soft murmur against my ear.

“I am now.”

He sighed then straightened up. “Where’s the asshole?”

I nodded towards the kitchen and followed him into the house.

David was snoring loudly.

“Just like my parents,” he said, his voice hot with dislike. “Where do you want me to put him?”

“Can you help me get him to the couch?”

“Sure.”

Sebastian rolled him into a sitting position and hooked his hands under David’s arms. I grabbed his legs awkwardly and together we managed to half-carry, half-drag him into the living room and deposit him on the couch.

While Sebastian arranged my comatose husband into the recovery position, I fetched a spare blanket from the closet and threw it over him loosely.

“That’s more than he deserves,” muttered Sebastian. I wasn’t sure if he meant for me to hear.

Then he looked directly at me; such a burning, scorching look that I couldn’t breathe. He stepped forwards.

“Not here,” I whispered. “Not with him here.”

Sebastian didn’t take his eyes from mine but he nodded slowly.

“Where?”

I hesitated. “Can we take your car?”

“Of course. My parents won’t miss it.” His lips curled with distaste. “They’ll be out for hours. As well as...”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence.

Gently, he took my hand and led me to the car, opening the door and leaning across to fasten my seatbelt. He kissed me softly on the lips and grinned at my startled expression.

For the first time that evening, I smiled a genuine, happy smile.

“So, where to, ma’am?”

I shook my head. “Anywhere. Nowhere. Somewhere. I don’t care – just as long as it’s with you.”

“The beach?”

“Perfect.”

We drove in silence through the night, the tension slowly mounting between us.